We threw down the annual Christmas Party last night, enjoyed a great crowd of some of our very favorite people, and hopefully sent everyone home stuffed and just a little tipsy. I cooked all day and was satisfied with the results– big
dishes of Amartriciana, Pesto Mafalda, and Penne Arrabiata to go with my traditional lasagne, the full pan (steam tray size) weighed in at a fulsome 39 pounds.
A guy can’t help but be proud of a 39 pound lasagne, and impressed by all the fantastic sides, dishes, deserts, treats and–best of all–some pretty delightful intoxicants. Chief among these was the caramel cinnamon flavored moonshine that rode up from Kentucky in the back of a pickup truck. When I think of a drink, the word “caramel” doesn’t generally come to mind, but man was this stuff good. That first 6-ounce portion at 110 proof really set the tenor for the evening, and caused no conflict with the beers which followed.
Folks really outdid themselves this time-I made entirely too much food, of course, and the generosity, culinary magic and–let’s be honest–competitive spirits of our friends ensured a bounty of excesses. This morning we face an abundance of magnificent left-overs. No moonshine, but plenty of grub. Probably enough to last us, and some of our friends and neighbors, through the week.
This party is the highlight of our year, in many regards, and it always goes too fast–even when it goes for 6 hours. Invariably, I feel like I didn’t speak long enough with many of our friends–but that’s a good thing, I guess. Always leave ’em wanting more. I woke this morning thinking: we need to find ways to spend more time with folks, more parties and more small gatherings, but mostly I thought: this is Christmas, love and laughter, friendship and–yes–gluttony, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.